


Until We May Meet Again

by TheSchubita



Series: Darkmoon Tales [2]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Arranged Marriage, Cock Warming, F/M, Face-Fucking, Face-Sitting, Genderbending, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, Mildly Dubious Consent, Pre-Relationship, Prophetic Dreams, Prophetic Visions, Roger is genderbent, Seduction, Teasing, fucking for conception
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:06:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24198697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSchubita/pseuds/TheSchubita
Summary: Brian doesn't know what to think of the new Queen of Rhee - his father's bride.But she haunts him, when he's awake, when he's dreaming.He might just be losing his mind a little bit.And then she asks something of him..Promt from the Must Fuck Weekend: Character A is married to an unknowlingly infertile king, who direly needs an heir. Out of desperation, A asks their trusted servant to impregnate them.
Relationships: Brian May/Roger Taylor, Roger Taylor (Queen)/Other(s)
Series: Darkmoon Tales [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1746454
Comments: 16
Kudos: 49
Collections: Queen Must Fuck Weekend





	Until We May Meet Again

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so this is actually an AU of something I already have planned. Also, I quite shamelessly incoorperated some world-building of an original story, as well as some poems ;).
> 
> Thank you, @Tikini and @emma_and_orlando, for hosting this!
> 
> ALSO please read the tags, this might be sensitive or triggering to some people.
> 
> .
> 
> This work is purely fictional and is meant for fandom only. If you're one of the people mentioned here, please don't proceed. If this shows up on any social media shared with the guys (Insta, Twitter) I'll come to your house and breathe loudly till you take it down ☺.
> 
> One thing that is important to me is that everything is tagged appropriately. If you read something that you feel should be tagged, please tell me. I want no one to be uncomfortable, or worse, triggered by something I didn't catch.
> 
> Also, English is not my first language, and I'm always willing to learn - if you catch something weird, you're free to tell me, as long as you're nice about it ;).

His father always called it a girlish fancy, but Brian was sure he could hear the wind whisper to him, sometimes.

He listened as it told him stories, of ages long past, when the Mother Goddesses still roamed their creation, free; of the Great War, and all those after; of the great heroes. Brian still listens, to this day.

Right now, it’s telling him of change, as the carriage of the Princess of Darkmoon arrives. Brian shivers, the winds unusually cold, almost insistent as they tug at his robes.

The princess – Regina, her name was, if memory serves – is _tiny_ , her figure hidden by layers upon layers of expensive fabric, her face veiled. Brian turns away, walking off the courtyard as she is formally announced. Her arrival changes nothing; Brian almost pities her, even.

His father has been infertile for years, Brian’s conception and survival a stroke of luck – not that it matters to his father. The King has had little interest in his upbringing, other than making sure Brian wouldn’t be an embarrassment. Yet, as he’d flourished under his tutors, his father had called him too soft, like his whore of a mother, and thrusted a sword in his small hands.

Brian had never been good enough for him, no matter how hard he tried to please him. It’s with bitter glee that he watches his father go through wives, through mistresses, through whores like other men would clothes, and none of these unions are fruitful.

.

At the wedding ceremony, days later, Brian catches a glimpse of the princess-soon-to-be-queen for the first time.

She’s undeniably beautiful, almost shining in the soft light, the picture of an obedient, dutiful Queen, devoted to her soon-to-be-husband with her eyes cast down, blushing eagerly.

And then, their eyes meet, and _Brian is drowning._

_The dream – the memory? – of a little girl, standing before him, her eyes furious and wild as she stares at him from amidst his bedroom, the air moving around her like water hits him like a bolt of lightning._

_He had reached out when the girl did, and for a moment, their fingers touched, and the smell of a forest right after a storm hit him, as her blue eyes, deep like the sea, looked at him in the same awe he must’ve looked with at her._

The next moment she was gone.

The smell of rain lingered in his modest chamber for days.

.

Her – _Regina’s_ – eyes haunt him throughout the entire feast.

As their eyes meet again and again over the sea of people, the wind whispers to him.

_Soul meets soul when eyes meet eyes._

.

Brian makes his way to the King’s private chambers, to meet him later. No doubt, his father wants to rub his pretty new wife into his face, claiming the arrival of his long awaited heir, highlighting Brian’s uselessness.

Just as he had half a dozen times before.

There won’t be an heir from the old monarch – not even with all the magic his new, Darkmoon wife was likely capable of.

He forgoes knocking, pushing the heavy wooden door open and –

_Freezes_.

Brian’s throat goes dry at the sight of the woman under his father, as she’s pressed down into the mattress, the picture of virginal debauchery as she bounces with each thrust, her neatly made blonde hair a mess, her pale skin flushed as his father holds her close.

She looks bored.

Vaguely uncomfortable too, but not like a virgin would, but rather, like she’s far away, only present enough to make his father believe she’s never had a better lover by the obscene sounds she makes.

His mind screams at him to retreat, but he can’t bring himself to move, completely enthralled by the way Regina moves under the King – and then her head tilts, her eyes finding his.

He watches as her mouth falls open a little, as if gasping quietly, her eyes widening. Brian is half a second away from mouthing an apology, when she _smirks_. He watches, dumbstruck, as she suddenly arches into the King’s sloppy thrusts, moaning louder, her eyes never leaving Brian’s.

Oh, that little _minx_.

Somewhere, deep down, Brian feels a swell of amused admiration at the challenge in her eyes, but it’s overshadowed by the tidal wave of arousal coursing through him at her efforts. He barely swallows a grimace at his father grunting on top of her, spurred on by her efforts, almost winces at the force of his thrusts, at the words he calls her, as if she were a common whore, and not a princess of noble blood. Yet, she barely seems to hear him, to even notice his rough thrusts, instead looking at Brian with her teasing little smile, shifting _just so_ that Brian gets a full view of her tits, almost sees the way the King’s cock sinks into her again and again.

Brian shifts uncomfortably, swallowing.

His cock is painfully straining against his breeches.

_“A son, give me a son –“_

His father’s loud moans douse Brian like ice-water, as the King slams into her, and he sees her wince, eyes momentarily falling shut in a grimace as the man on top of her spills inside of her. Brian clenches his teeth at the sight of rough hands tugging at her hair painfully, making her gasp, exposing her neck.

“Kiss me, my little wife,” the King grunts, then, and Brian feels a swell of something hot and ugly in his chest.

_His wife._

Brian flings himself away from the sight, barely remembering to close the door as he runs as if demons were nipping at his heels.

He barely hears the confused question of his knight, Freddie, asks as he throws himself through the door of his chamber, slamming it shut. Brian leans heavily against the door, ignores Freddie’s inquiries as he pushes a desperate hand down his trousers.

It barely takes more than five strokes before he comes. He bites down on his knuckles, trying to smother the strangled sound threatening to escape.

The image of a lithe, alluring body, soaked with sweat and wanton moans escaping a long, white neck doesn’t leave him for the rest of the night, even as shame fills him.

Even behind his closed eyes, blue eyes bore into his, and it’s not until the twin moons set beyond the horizon that he falls in a fitful sleep.

.

“You didn’t attend me last night,” the King grunts at Brian as he shows up the next morning in his father’s chambers. “Your disobedience is a discredit to your blood, boy.”

“I apologize, father,” Brian presses out. “I found you, _erm_ – quite occupied last night, and took my leave.”

“Ah,” the King suddenly grins. “Yes, my new wife kept me up quite late,” he purrs, taking a sip of wine.

_‘I know,_ ’ Brian wants to scream.

“I thought we could all have breakfast together,” his father continues. “After all, she’s your stepmother now, the future mother of your King, one day,” he says, his eyes on Brian, looking for a reaction.

Brian is old enough to know to not play the King’s little games. He just nods, bowing.

As if on cue, the door open, light steps echoing in the room.

“Ah, my pretty little Queen,” his father says, elated. “Come, sit down,” he gestures at a chair too close to his own seat. Brian looks up, and almost chokes.

On first glance, the newly minted Queen of Rhee is the image of demure propriety in her velvet dress, smiling shyly at her husband. But, as she walks, her dress shifts, revealing almost the entire lenght of her leg, the way the fabric gleams only accentuating her lovely figure.

There is nothing demure or proper about her when she smiles at Brian, the same look on her face as the night before.

Brian suffers through breakfast in silence as he watches Regina titter and flirt with her husband, feeding him little bites, blushing when his father nips at her fingers.

He hopes neither realize he had to adjust himself twice in his breeches.

From the hidden grin Regina shoots in his direction, probably not.

.

“I’m in fucking _hell_ ,” Brian whines two weeks later as he downs another beer. Freddie sighs indulgently, patting his shoulder.

“I’m sure you’re exaggerating, dear,” the knight says, eyes drifting to the corner of the tavern.

“No, I’m not,” Brian groans. “I swear to you, it’s not a coincidence.” Freddie hums, but Brian knows he doesn’t believe him.

For the past two weeks, there isn’t a day that passes that Brian doesn’t cross paths with the new Queen. That in itself wouldn’t be a problem, if not for the scandalously skimpy clothing she seems to favor. The ladies of the court are delighted by her dedication to fashion, imitating her. No one else seems to be bothered by her enticing, sheer dresses either.

The court seems to love her, her kindness, her youth and energy.

_Her beauty._

It’s not that Brian couldn’t handle her clothing, if that were all.

What bothers him is how he seems to walk in to his father fucking her every other day.

Brian feels as if he intimately knows the way she looks in the throes of passion, the way her body moves under another, the way she sounds like a _whore_.

And every time, their eyes meet, and suddenly, her little act of pleasure becomes more real, her eyes not looking away for a single moment.

He rubs a tired hand over his face.

Dreams of her keep him up at night, but – they’re not mirroring of what he sees during the day.

In his dreams, Regina stands tall in a foreign court, proud and strong, wearing armor instead of a delicate dress, her face smeared with dirt and blood. Brian dreams of the twin moons rising over a night sky, sees crumbling castles rebuilt.

He dreams of Regina turning to him, a sharp, _real_ smile gracing her lips as she kisses him.

_Fucks him._

Sometimes, there is a child there, too, with eyes like the forest.

His father and her both have blue eyes.

“Look,” Freddie says, voice soothing, bringing Brian back to the present. “I know she’s a looker –“

“How would you know?” Brian grins at him, and Freddie rolls his eyes.

“Listen, I may be solely into swallowing swords and all–“ Brian chuckles. “– but that doesn’t mean I can’t see true beauty when I see it.”

“It’s not just that,” Brian mumbles.

Because –

He sees the way Regina’s eyes are always sharp, glinting with intelligence and cunning as she regales the court. He sees the way she almost despairs at the council meetings, same as him, at their meaningless squabbles and the greed.

He sees the way she could be more. _Wants_ to be more.

Yet, his father keeps her on a short leash, obsessed with filling her with a son and heir.

Some days, she doesn’t make it out of the chambers.

“Those are dangerous thoughts, my dear,” Freddie mumbles, equally soft. “Your father hates you, and the only reason your head is still attached is because you haven’t given him reasons to cut it off.”

“I know,” Brian grunts, vaguely annoyed. “I’m not going to get into trouble over a pair of tits.” No matter how lovely they were.

“Speaking of tits,” Freddie suddenly grins. “I have someone I’d like you to meet – Peaches! Come over here for a mo’, darling,” he yells out.

.

Peaches barely quells his desire long enough to remember to call out her name, instead of another.

Yet, he is drawn to her strawberry-blonde hair, her grey eyes enough to tide him over for the next few weeks, and he keeps inviting her to his chamber.

If he closes his eyes, he can pretend it’s another woman under him, yielding to him so perfectly.

He knows it’s a lie – Regina may act like the little perfect bride his father wants her to be, but Brian knows, deep down, she’s anything but.

.

With each passing week that his new Queen remains without child, his father grows more irritable, more impatient.

Regina bears it all with a sugary smile, even as she clenches her tiny fists so tight Brian can see blood, some days.

There is something in the air. It feels like those few moments before lightning strikes.

Brian waits with bated breath.

.

“Boy,” his father grunts as he’s helped into his hunting armor by an attendant. “I’ll be gone for the week – my wife assures me the moons indicate a most favorable hunt,” he says, with a pointed look at his little wife, who is sitting on the bed, looking down her folded hands. “Of course it’s just superstition, but I do need a break.”

Because he’s been working _so_ hard, busy killing his liver with wine. Brian nods.

“And, perhaps, upon my return,” the King says, approaching his wife, cupping her flat stomach, digging his fingers into the flesh. “The moons might’ve granted us a _real_ favor.”

Regina keeps looking demurely down, cupping his hand in her own. “I pray every night and day, my Lord Husband,” she says softly. “I feel ashamed of not having done my duty yet.”

Brian is almost impressed by her act. “What’s that got to do with me?” Brian asks the King.

“Ah,” the King nods, turning away from his wife. “I do not trust those lecherous Lords in the council, my son,” Brian cocks his head. The times his father had acknowledged his heritage directly are rare. “My little wife is sweet and loyal, but too trustful,” he explains. “If I appoint another Lord to her care, I fear for them falling to her innocent charms, to leave her helpless to their mercy.”

Brian keeps looking at the King in askance.

“And I don’t trust that knight of hers, either,” his father continues, looking at his wife pointedly. “Foreign blood that he is.”

Brian sees her fists spasm, before forcefully relaxing.

“I wish for you to take care of her, Brian,” his King says, somewhat impatiently. “You’re my blood, no matter how low your birth may have been.” Brian grits his teeth, doing his best to look neutral. “I trust only you to guard the mother of your future brother.”

“Ah,” Brian says, the words not quite having caught up to him.

“You will not leave her side while I’m gone – I expect her to remain perfectly unharmed and unspoiled when I return.”

“You’re demoting me to her governess,” Brian snaps. “I’m a _knight_ – not a glorified nursemaid–“

“Watch your tongue, boy. I’m still your King,” his father thunders, and Brian snaps his mouth shut. “You will obey me – and if I am pleased by your dutiful execution, who knows,” the King chuckles. “I might let you see your mother.”

Brian stills.

“Thank you,” Regina says, almost hastily as she addresses Brian directly. “I do apologize for keeping you from your duties, but I fear my Lord Husband is quite right – I struggle to perceive the true nature of men.”

Brian almost, almost snorts out loud. Gods, his father truly is buying her acts, isn’t he?

“I apologize for my rash words, my Queen,” he bows, keeping looking at her, swallowing at the way her eyes glitter. “Of course, it is an honor to serve my King, and you.”

“It’s settled then,” the King nods, making his way over to Regina, tugging her close. “Behave, my little wife,” he says, sloppily licking into her mouth. To her credit, Regina looks nothing short of rapturous at his attentions.

“As my King commands,” she titters.

It’s going to be a long week.

.

Regina reminds him of a fairytale princess, locked into a tower, guarded by a dragon, right now. Brian watches as she barely keeps her sweet façade at being denied entrance to the council chamber – the Lords there no doubt enacting his father’s orders.

“Your devotion does you credit, my Queen,” one of the Lords says, leering at her. “But these are matters for men – nothing your pretty little head could handle.” The tone is well-meaning, but Brian hears the condescension just as well as Regina can; he is familiar with it, but at least, he’s a man – Brian shudders to think what his father would’ve done with him had he been born a _female_ bastard.

“Of course,” Regina replies, and Brian watches with fascination as she uses her anger to put up a wall of sweet nothingness, fooling everyone around her; even Brian would be inclined to believe her demure acquiescion, if not for the way her eyes are burning with hatred.

Brian follows her dutifully as she returns to her chambers, and her steps are measured and her posture relaxed, as if she hasn’t a care in the world, smiling at courtiers and stopping for a few words here and there.

When the doors fall shut in her chamber, Brian sees her mask fall, and watches as Regina grabs a chair, hurling it against the wall with a scream. He ducks away, but otherwise says nothing.

It’s not like he himself hasn’t destroyed some furniture in a bout of anger and frustration against his father.

.

He’s dismissed, and he goes to stand outside her door. Some more crashes can be heard, here and there, and Brian makes a little game out of guessing what she’s destroying. He pointedly _does not_ imagine how she would look, wild-eyed, hair loose and flying, muscles shifting under her deceitfully soft skin as she lifts some more furniture.

He _does not_ , because it comes too uncomfortably close to his dreams, where she isn’t a quiet little thing but a Queen worthy of legends.

It’s her knight – John, Brian thinks his name is – that jolts Brian out of his thoughts, as he passes him in the hallway. John stops with a raised eyebrow at a loud crash and muffled shout, before he snickers.

“Took her long enough,” he tells Brian. “Well, I’m off to my free week – frolicking in the fields or whatever,” he winks, and a love-bite is just barely visible on his neck. “Good luck with _that_ ,” John smirks, almost _skipping_ away as the sound of something delicate shattering reaches their ears. He hums a merry tune, and Brian thinks he’s heard Freddie sing it earlier that week.

Brian is reminded that John and Regina are cousins, raised as siblings, and Brian can definitely see it now, in the way that John is gleeful at his duty being hoisted off to Brian, like a long-suffering sibling. Brian has seen it enough times in the way Freddie would fondly roll his eyes whenever little Lady Kashimira would insist of trailing after him.

.

If he thought Regina was torturing before, well.

Brian doesn’t know where to look, anymore. Regina, more or less confined to her chambers, has forgone the Rhee fashion, instead wearing much simpler clothes, likely from Darkmoon, her home.

They’re also _much_ tighter fitting, the simple, almost floor-length tunic she’s wearing being split on both sides, starting from high on her thigh. Brian is sure there should be breeches, somewhere, or a slip underneath – the outfit looks incomplete. Obscene.

Regina grins at him where she’s lounging on a chair amidst the chaos of her room, indulging herself to some sweets. One of her legs is propped up on the armrest, causing the long tunic to hitch up further, and if Brian squints, he can see her bare cunt.

Brian very decidedly _does not_ squint.

.

“Prince Brian,” she addresses him over dinner the next day, leaning forward. HHher corset is wound too tight, causing her tits to almost pop out. Brian had tried to escape this dinner, but – she _is_ Queen. “I hope you don’t find me too forward, but –“ Brian braces himself for whatever is to come next. “I’d like to hear about your mother.”

Brian blinks. That was not what he had expected.

“I’m not a prince,” he tells her curtly. “As I’m sure you know. I do not appreciate being mocked for being a bastard.”

“Of course you are a prince,” she dismisses, taking a delicate bite out of her roast. “You’re of royal blood, no matter if your parents were married – in Darkmoon, blood is blood,” she explains, her dark blue eyes heavy on him.

“We’re not in Darkmoon,” Brian says softly. He wonders what it could’ve been like – not being labeled as less just because his mother had been a nobody.

“Pity,” Regina sniffs. “Because then, the King wouldn’t have to go through wives like one does socks, as he’d already have an heir.”

Brian tries to gather his thoughts, unsure of what she wants of him, what she wants him to say.

“I’m not playing your games, Queen Regina,” he says formally, a touch cool. “I have no interest in the throne.”

“Don’t you?” She wonders, not amused, yet not too serious either as she studies him. “And what if the King were to die without an heir?”

“He has cousins –“

“Simple-minded, greedy things,” she dismisses, her gaze still burning into him. “We both know your father is infertile – has been for quite some time.”

Brian sighs, taking a sip of wine.

“And,” Regina continues, and Brian might be imagining it, but there is a slight tremble in her hands when she picks up her own goblet. “We know his wives tend to – _decline_ when they don’t perform their duty to your father.”

He looks at her, waiting.

“Tell me about your mother,” she asks again, and Brian only sees honest curiosity in her sharp eyes.

Brian does.

He tells her of his earliest memories, where it had only been them, away from anything but the winds making the trees in the forest whisper. He tell Regina of his mother’s kindness, her inner strength, how she always held her head high no matter how harsh their lives were.

Regina listens with rapt attention, lets him tell his tale without interruption.

He tells her how his father, the King, came to rip him away from her. There is honest grief for him in Regina’s eyes, but she doesn’t offer any meaningless words of comfort to him.

She takes his hand, instead.

“Your mother sounds lovely,” she whispers. “I only grew up with my grandmother – my parents were killed in the battles of the Red Valley.”

“By Rhee soldiers,” Brian says. “Why in the world did your grandmother send you to us? To _him_?”

Regina remains quiet, looking out the high windows, where the two moons were rising. “She had a vision,” she eventually says. Brian has heard about of deep the people of Darkmoon were entwined with magic, with the Gods – with their Lady of the Starless Night.

“It’s still cruel, to send you into the heart of an enemy kingdom – no matter how much your union was celebrated to bring _eternal peace_.” He snorts, and Regina turns to him, solemn.

“I had a vision too – I didn’t accept her vision, her _plan_ ,” there’s a sneer on her face. “But I was shown the truth – my path.”

“And it’s lead you to an infertile King who’s going to blame _you_ for his own shortcomings,” Brian says, laughing humorlessly. “The Gods are truly cruel.”

Regina doesn’t seem to be perturbed by his dismissal. She keeps looking at him, and the intensity in her eyes causes shivers to run down his spine.

“I was lead here, yes,” she nods, standing up. In the low light, her dress shimmers with each breath, making it look like waves of the sea. Brian leans back in his own chair as she rounds the table, approaching him with slow, measured steps, and he can’t help but feel as if he was prey, being stalked by a true, dangerous predator. He shivers again.

“But in the Silver Eyes of the Fallen Star, I didn’t see an old, sorry excuse of a King, a lesser son of savage conquerors,” she says, leaning down, cupping his face in her small, strong hands. “I saw a kind little boy, with eyes like the forest – eyes like his mother.”

_His dream._

_His dream, that was not a dream, that haunted him for an entire decade._

_The little girl with the furious eyes._

_The same eyes staring down at him, dark like the midnight ocean._

_Regina._

“Stop,” he breathes, and they’re so close she must be able to taste the wine on his breath. “We can’t –“

“Of course we can,” she whispers, her eyes never leaving his. Under her flowery perfume, she smells of rain and forest. “Don’t you see? This was always meant to happen.”

“ _No_ ,” he says, forcefully, taking her hands, tugging them away from his face. She lets him, appearing only slightly bemused. “I don’t care for whatever you’re playing at – I don’t _want_ to.”

Regina laughs at him.

“Of course you do – I’ve seen you watching me.”

“Because you dress like a harlot!” Brian yells, voice cracking as he motions at her, before shaking his head. “My father would have both our heads –“

“Your father,” she interrupts, seating herself on his lap with one smooth motion, essentially caging him on his chair. Brian should push her off. He really should. “Is inconsequential. He’ll be nothing more than a footnote in history, barely worth remembering his name,” she informs him. Brian has no love for his father, but –

“You’re – are you talking about killing him – I can’t –“

“I know,” she says, her eyes softening as she brushes her knuckles over his cheek. “ _I know_ you can’t. Your gentle heart does you credit, Prince Brian,” she mumbles. No one, no one had ever praised him for being _gentle_. “No one will have to _kill_ him – the strings of fate will sort him out.”

“You’ve seen that, too?” He laughs bitterly.

“I’ve seen Darkmoon rise again, seen Rhee prosper, _truly_ prosper,” she says instead. “I’ve seen us all united – because _you and I_ will be united.”

“You can’t decide that,” he says, breathless. Her weight on him, her body so close to his – her presence is intoxicating, her words making his head swim. Brian wants her to _leave_.

He wants her to –

He _wants_ her.

_Fuck_.

“I’m not,” Regina says, her mischievous grin momentarily lightening the mood. “I’m _asking_. Very nicely.”

“You’re a _menace_ – I can’t believe you have the whole court fooled,” Brian tells her.

“And I can’t believe you _aren’t_ ,” Regina tells him, shifting in his lap, and.

Not good.

“You’re the one who sees me, here,” she adds, voice more soft. It makes something warm unfurl in his chest, and Brian just barely squashes the urge to hold her close. “Is it really so much to ask for?” She asks him. “The King is infertile, I need an heir to survive history. Blood is blood,” she repeats her earlier words, one hand settling on his chest, over his heart.

“It’s not _right_ –“ Brian tries weakly. He’s so, so close to giving in to her. She takes one of his hand in hers, settling it on her own chest.

“This,” she purrs. “Is the only thing that _is_ right.”

Under his palm, he can feel her heartbeat, erratic –

_She’s nervous. Scared?_

“Brian,” she whispers, her eyes vulnerable. “ _Please_.”

Brian gives in.

Regina doesn’t waste time after his defeated nod, sighing against his lips as his hands fall to her hips.

Kissing her is like trying to douse a fire with oil – he drowns in her, drowns in her taste, drowns in the way she swallows his noises. She’s seems eager, her tiny hand coming down to unlace his breeches as she leans back, smiling at him in a sweet smile.

It’s not a real smile.

“Stop,” he says forcefully, grabbing her wrist. She blinks at him. “I don’t want you to pretend, Regina,” he tells her, rubbing the skin of her wrist, lifting it up to kiss her palm. “I don’t want a lifeless doll – I want you, as you are.”

She looks at him with a helpless expression, flushing.

“It’s – just, you don’t have to be gentle,” she says. “You can fuck me, however you wish –“

“You’re not a whore,” Brian says idly. “You’re a Princess of Darkmoon, Queen of Rhee – don’t you want to be worshipped?” He leans in to press a tender kiss to her shoulder, and she _squeaks_ , her frame shivering in his arms.

“But –“

“I’m not my father,” Brian growls against her skin, inhaling the scent of forest, of something wild – almost salivating. “I don’t want you on your knees, don’t want you _demure_ – I hate that act, hate to see _you_ like this.” He looks up at her, sees how her eyes darken, feels her chest heave with short breaths. “Who is Regina of Darkmoon?”

“Bed,” she croaks out, sliding off his lap, tugging at his hand. Brian goes, lets her lead, because –

She’s caged here, in this castle, just as he is, and he wants to see if his dreams are right. He wants to see if he can catch a glimpse of _that_ Queen.

“Whatever my Queen wants,” he says, and while it’s a quip, Brian finds that he means it.

“Is that what you like?” She wonders, clambering up the bed after him, tugging off her overcoat, shoes already gone. “I don’t believe you. I’ve seen how you look when you saw me under the King, all spread out and ready for the taking,” it’s teasing, yes, but there’s an undertone there Brian doesn’t like.

“ _You_ came to _me_ ,” he reminds her as she settles over his lap again. “This is on your terms – so, take what you want from me.”

“Tempting,” she mumbles, reaching out to brush a thumb over his lips. “And what if I wanted to ride your face until you’re numb, hm? What if I tie you up, take what I need from you, and never look at you again?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Brian breathes, his hands curling into the flesh of her thighs. “Though I’d like for you to look at me again, after this.”

Regina breathes out a trembling laugh. “What a charmer you are,” she murmurs, leaning down to claim a kiss. It leaves Brian’s head spinning, and he doesn’t notice her untying her skirts until the material pools over his sides, and silk ribbons wrap around his wrists.

“Go on,” he says, gazing up at her, waiting her out, until she stops hesitating, tugging his arms over his head, binding them together and tying the ribbons around the bedpost. She leans back, looking down at him appreciatively, bare from her hips down, but still wearing that infernal corset. The ribbons are tight, but not cuttingly so. Brian feels, if he really wanted to, he could probably get out of them.

“Tell me if you want to get out of them,” she says earnestly.

“And how will I be able to speak if I got my mouth full?” He asks her in turn, blinking up at her coyly, licking his lips.

“Gods, you’re _impossible_ ,” she sighs, but a pleased flush breaks out, going all the way down to her chest. “Tap my knee three times.”

“As you command, my Queen,” he says.

“Oh, I’ll shut up that smart mouth of yours in a minute,” she promises darkly, but it has the desired effect; she no longer looks wary of him.

_Good_. Brian doesn’t want her to looked as bored as when he’d first seen her under his father. She deserves more.

True to her word, she shuffles up, until her knees bracket his head – though she is careful not to crush him, placing herself with care. Brian barely cares, though – coming this close to her cunt, all pretty and pink, already shining with her juices, he can’t help but lick his lips, this time in anticipation.

“Oh, you really like that, don’t you?” Regina marvels, leaning down to card a hand through his hair. “Like being at my mercy, being _used_?”

“Yes – _please_ , Regina, want to taste you–“ he whimpers.

He’s rewarded by her lowering herself, until her folds brush against his lips. Eagerly, he surges up, mouthing at the wetness there. Above him, Regina keens lowly, falling forward, bracing herself on the bed.

Brian moans at that sound, his cock twitching in his breeches, and he licks into her, suckling at her, desperate for her to make that noise again. She does just a few short moments later, bucking down. Brian just tilts his head at the added weight, giving himself a better angle. He’s rewarded with another high-pitched moan, heat pooling low in his gut at the sound.

“You’re so good at this –“ he hears her say, sounding awed. “Doing so well, _Brian_ –“ Encouraged, he doubles his efforts, sucking at her clit.

_Gods_ , she tastes so good down here, so _heady_.

Regina is practically gushing, as well. It’s not Brian’s first time pleasuring a girl like this, not by a long shot, but it’s the first time he’s tied up, unable to hold her in place as she ruts down into his face, losing more and more composure with each moment that passes, until she’s mindlessly fucking his face, little gasps escaping her.

Brian loves it.

He hums low in his throat, the only way he can convey his pleasure. She mewls, the sound reverberating against her cunt.

“Fuck – _fuck_ , Brian, you’re perfect – I’m going to soil that pretty face of yours –“

She does, just mere seconds later, her legs trembling against Brian’s head as she comes with a wail. Brian laps up her slick, teasing inside of her, loving the way she shakes apart above him.

It’s only when she slumps down that Brian makes a noise of protest at the weight, his neck creaking. She immediately shuffles back, rolling off him to curl at his side, a hand carding through his hair.

When Brian looks in her face, he sees nothing but bliss, sees her content and sated. He can’t quite hide the proud little smile gracing his lips.

Her eyes open, as if feeling his gaze on her. Regina smirks right back.

“Look at you, all debauched, hm?” She purrs, wiping some of her own slick off his chin. Regina leans over to kiss him, her limbs draping over him as she licks into his mouth languidly, unhurried. “I haven’t felt this satisfied in _months_ ,” she laments playfully.

Brian has no trouble believing her; the King would hardly care for her pleasure. The words fill him with pride, nonetheless, and he preens.

“What do you want to do next, lovely prince?” She asks him, rubbing a hand over his chest. She tweaks a nipple, obviously delighting in his squirms. “I think you deserve something as reward.”

He looks into her eyes, feeling something in his chest loosening at the way she almost seems to glow in the low light of the candles, stripped from her masks.

Letting Brian see her.

“Can you –“ he bites his lip. “Could you take your corset off?”

She tilts her head, but heaves herself up, hands reaching to her back, beginning to unlace it. “Why?” She asks him. “Do you not like it?”

“Looks uncomfortable,” he says, not quite an answer.

“It is,” she laughs, trying to tug at the laces, but it seems to be bound quite tight, and Regina huffs, clearly aggravated.

“I could help you,” Brian says, waggling his fingers, a bit numb from being tied up for so long.

“Mh, certainly,” she grins, straddling him again. “And then what? You’ll flip me over, having your wicked way with me?” She teases, but she’s already moving to untie him.

“No,” Brian says as his wrists are free, and he sits up slowly, bringing their faces close. He doesn’t touch her just yet. “Because that’s not what _you_ want.”

“Who says I don’t?” She says archly. Brian makes a face at her, and she deflates. “No, not often,” she admits. “I haven’t found anyone I trust to do that.”

And yet, she has had to suffer it, for every night since she came here.

“Then, until you trust me,” Brian says, carefully beginning to unlace her corset. “I won’t.”

It’s not like he hasn’t imagined it; he hasn’t seen her in any different position so far, it wasn’t _hard_ to. But, she had been contained by her act; Brian wants to see what Regina is like when she has let loose.

Regina looks at him, shivers as the corset is undone, air hitting her freed skin as Brian tugs it away, tossing it to the side.

“You’re not what I expected,” she admits, and takes his hands, guiding them to her hips. “I thought you’d want to be more – dominating.”

“I can do both,” Brian shrugs, hands flexing at the feel of her skin under his touch. Briefly, he wonders what she _did_ imagine, but decides he doesn’t want to know; perhaps she’d imagined him as brutish as his father, and the thought has something cold grip around his heart.

Slowly, Regina pushes him down to the pillows, but follows him, their faces remaining only inches apart.

“Show me,” she whispers.

Brian reaches up, cupping the back of her golden head gently, guiding her down gently – giving her enough time, enough options to stop. She doesn’t, and Brian kisses her.

It’s sweet, barely a brush of lips against lips, and whenever Regina tries to deepen the kiss, Brian is there to gentle it, until Regina squirms in his lap, clearly frustrated. He waits until she takes the initiative, reaching between them to tug his straining, aching cock free of his breeches, helping him kick them off.

“Oh,” she says slowly, dainty hand wrapping firmly around his length, making Brian arch with a soundless moan. “Now _that’s_ a pretty cock,” she admires, and before Brian can say anything to that, she leans down, teasing his slit with her tongue.

This time, a sound _does_ escape Brian; a gargled wail as he grips the sheets tightly. She hums, suckling his head into her mouth, as if relishing in his taste. He does his best to stay still, even if the urge to fuck up into her hot, wet mouth is almost overwhelming, along with wanting to grab her hair desperately.

He sobs when she pulls away, both in frustration and gratitude – he would’ve come not long after, had she not stopped, but his cock twitches pitifully between his legs – desperate.

“Okay?” She asks, and Brian blinks up at her, takes in the way she’s hovering, perched just inches above his cock. He nods dazedly, and she shoots him a tiny smile.

Then, Brian isn’t really aware of much anymore as tight, perfect heat wraps around his cock as Regina sinks down on him, torturously slow, inch by inch.

“ _Oh_ , by the twin moons–“ He warbles out, his hands on her hips tightening. She hums, seemingly pleased by his words as she begins to rock in his lap a little, testing out the feeling of his cock inside her. Brian watches as her eyes flutter shut, a content expression flitting over her face as she moves.

“ _Yes_ ,” she breathes out, eyes still closed as she tosses her head back. Brian is awestruck by her, how Regina moves on top of him. All pretense of shyness, of being demure are gone as she rolls her hips, her entire body moving with it, sinuously and fluid. She mumbles something else, and Brian doesn’t quite catch it, but it sounds like a prayer, reverent.

Brian can’t get enough of her. The whole world seems to fall away, the room dimming until Brian sees only her, glowing as the moons shine on her naked, sweat-soaked skin. His hands roam over the expanse of her back, her sides, over her thighs, cupping her tits.

“That’s it,” she croons. “ _Love me_.”

‘ _I do_ ,’ Brian thinks dazedly, the thought coming out of nowhere.

Regina’s blue, _blue_ eyes open, boring into his.

_Soul meets soul when eyes meet eyes._

For a moment, everything but her eyes disappear. For a moment, he sees her past, sees her now. For a scant moment, he glimpses into the future his dreams merging with the present. For a moment, he sees her in warrior regalia, sees her standing by his side.

For a moment, he sees a child.

Regina comes with a low whine, her walls contorting around his cock and Brian can’t help but think she looks absolutely sublime like this.

“ _Come_ –“ she gasps through her orgasm, quivering above him. “Come for me.”

Something slots into place inside him, reaching down to his soul and rattling the foundations of his very being.

Brian follows her, coming deep inside her, one hand gripping her hip, thumbing at her stomach, the other digging into her thigh with bruising force, and everything goes white.

Then dark.

He feels warm when he eventually come to, drowsy like after taking a long bath. The next thing he notices is that Regina is still firmly seated on his softening cock, though she’s slumped over his chest, still breathing erratically. She smiles up at him tiredly.

Brian smiles back, though he must look somewhat confused to their current state of still being fused together.

“Thought I’d keep you warm,” she mumbles. “I kind of like it. You feel nice.”

“So do you,” Brian croaks out. She hums contently, snuggling into his chest. He wraps his arms around her back, pulling her close, carding through her hair. Her eyes are closed, but Brian swears she begins to purr, like a cat.

Brian wants to ask so many questions; he wants to know how – if they’ll continue. Wants to know what she saw, if it’s the same as he did. He wants to know how they’ve been entwined for so long, and what the future brings for them.

He doesn’t ask any of these, content to enjoy the moment. He finds he doesn’t care for what their future holds, as long Brian can keep Regina, just as she is; wild, and intense, and without inhibition; without her pretty masks.

He falls asleep to her humming a melody. The wind, filtering through the open window, sings him the same.

Just before the warm embrace of sleep takes him, he thinks he hears a whisper, but doesn’t know if it’s Regina, or the wind.

_‘And in the Halls of Time, Magic grows and the World will be reborn.’_

.

**Author's Note:**

> what do we think?


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